Hey guys! This is a companion piece to my story 101 Places to See. It will be updated too, don't worry. It starts out with Eleven's reboot. I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I ody otny wnoy octordy howy.
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Raggedy Man, goodnight. Amelia Pond, he read hair straightened and a fiery as ever, pulled her hand back to her side from his cheek. She turned his back on him, vaporizing into air. For once, her felt perfectly content with it. She was gone, but happy. With Rory. The Pond era had ended. He turned his back too. Resting, but alive and well.
BAM!
A blinding golden light filled his vision. Eleven writhed in agony. He was sleeping only moments ago.
He heard screaming, barely aware it was his own voice making the terrible noise.
And Suddenly, it was gone. He was still there, in the light, but that felt less real. Now he was in the console room. A vision. He could see Amy Pond's pinstriped back, then she was gone again. Eleven felt a presence behind him and turned around.
"Hello there, Theta Sigma." Time Lady Clara(Her real name wasn't known, but her close friends called her Clara amongst other things like how they called Susan 'Susan Foreman', but looked like Prime Clara) was standing in front of him. Wearing the same Time Lord clothes she had on Galifrey from the repair shop. He remembered faintly glimpses from school, when he was called Theta by his friends. He sat behind her in class. Sometimes, she would steal a glance, only to look away.
"Carta Omega." He breathed, rolling the 'r' in 'Carta', calling her by the nickname he had heard over waves of Time Lords so long ago. "The Carer." A title Carta had chosen.
"Yes Theta. I died in the shop, sentenced to treason for helping you with stealing." Her accent had touches of Galifreyan dialect. Eleven burned with guilt. She seemed to sense this.
"Don't you dare blame yourself for this!" This copy of Clara, he remembered when her stern voice flowed in the hallway, scolding buddies, was quite bossy and insistent.
"I am just a copy of Clara. I'm not even real."
"You were real to me. All of your echoes. They were real to me."
"How noble." Carta said softly. She stepped closer and knelt down. Carta kissed his hand like he was a king. A Galifreynian custom for reassurance to only the mighty of the Time Lords.
"No! Stop, get up Carta!" He fretted. Carta lifted herself up.
"I am fading, Theta. I am merely a vision. Real, but a vision. And, I bet you can guess who's coming next. Just remember, only on most significant will come. The ones you heard." She grinned and let him ponder.
"No, Carta please!" He begged.
"Goodbye and Good Luck,Theta."Carta vanished. His first glimpse, his first conversation, his first connection to a decent Time Lord since forever ago, gone.
Eleven sighed. His eyes searched around the room. The walls were now filled with pictures of Clara's adventures with him, all throughout time sand space, including the lives of her echoes.
"Hello, Scarf Man."
A women appeared. She was Sarah-Jane's friend during the Fourth Doctor's era. He remembered every word. She had told him that he had a role to play later on.
Much later. Many lifetimes, you will sleep. Other incarnations will rise of you. But you have a role to play. No More. She had breathed. Galifrey falls. He had been utmost confused. See you soon, Curator. She had then made him forget that with some device she had gotten. Everything except for her words and eyes. But her eyes were enough for the memory to surface. She had been shot by the Daleks, creeping up on him at that very moment and Sarah Jane screamed in terror and loss. Killed just to say those words.
The girl was in her twenties. She looked exactly like Clara, except her hair was thicker, darker, falling to her waist.
Her name was Claire Smith.
"Claire. What-" He cut himself off. "
The Curator. The one who takes care of things. Makes sure they're in the best care." Claire phrased. Her skin was slightly more tanned then Prime Clara.
"You died. Just to say those words." Eleven faltered.
"It's okay." Claire brushed her thumb under his eyelid. "I won't be here as long as Carta. So listen up please Doctor." This version of Clara was more neutral, showing the gentle side of her.
"Claire. Thank you. So much." He choked slightly. She nodded.
"Don't thank me. I got you into a lot of trouble on Trenzalore. But it's okay. I was born to die for you. And don't counter that. Please."
She was fading.
'Goodbye. Remember me, Curator."
He trembled slightly and turned. Carta. Claire. Countless others that had died saving him...
"Doctor?" He froze. The voice sent chills up his spine. That voice he hadn't heard since a forever ago. A small girl in a blouse and skirt, about eight years old. Her outfit singed and burnt, her hair frayed and choppy. She looked like a young Clara Oswald. Her name was Olivia Holmes. (Not Sherlock, but a connection to The Snowmen. Olivia as in the letter 'O', like Oswin.)
She had shook his arm in his ninth incarnation as Hendrick's. The little girl had so much force to knock him down, yank him by his ears from the plastic demons. Grabbed his fallen sonic and threw it to him.
Blown up at the explosion.
Not that he'd known. He'd presumed she had gotten out safely. Now he knew this was not the case.
"Hi. You okay?"
The Eleventh Doctor bent down.
"Hello Olivia Holmes." The little girl ran into his arms, and he wrapped his own around her. He could smell the ashes, the smoke in her hair as he held the young child's small, fragile body close. Olivia pulled away kissed him on the cheek.
"You okay?" She repeated.
"Yes. What about you, Olivia? Did-did it hurt?" The explosion left her face smeared with ashes, almost ash herself. Her hair had been singed off by twelve inches.
"Yeah. I wish I had my hair back though. I was trying to grow it out, like Rapunzel." Her hand went to her ponytail. This echo of Clara showed the fairytale side of her, the daydreamer of far off lands she wished she could travel to. He brushed a delicate strand off her forehead.
"'I'm sorry." She sniffed. " 'S okay. 'S fine. Please don't feel bad. I had a thousand more lives too!" Olivia cracked a smile.
"But-" She put a finger to his lips. "No buts, Doctor. My mom always says that to me." Olivia scolded sternly.
"I'm fading." She admitted and stepped back. "The clock's at midnight!"
Gone.
A voice cleared her throat.
"Hello Chin Boy." Oswin Oswald crossed her arms sassily, smiling.
"Oswin. Souffle Girl."
She grasped both of his hands and squeezed them with her own.
Oswin let go or his hands. She was still wearing the smae red dress and trianers the Doctor hadn't seen.
"Oi! Chin up Doctor!" She tapped his chin, which was hung in shame, and lifted it so that he was at his usual height. She smiled. 'There. Now you taller then me again." Eleven caught her hand mid-air from his chin.
"Oswin. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've known. I should've-" He was at a loss for words.
"There's nothing you could've done, you stubborn man. And who know it too. So stop. I joined the Alaska to see the universe. The Universe wouldn't be there if Clara wasn't there."
"She was amazing that night."
Oswin shook her head. "No. My creator was impecable in your tomb. Amazing, I suppose. Oh look, I'm bragging." She chuckled. Eleven cracked a smile. "There's the stupid smile along with the stupid chin." She winked. "See, I'm funny."
He shook his head sadly. The room rippled slightly.
"Whoops, that's my cue." She stepped back. Just he was about to speak as she turned on her heel, she faced the Doctor once more. "Make me a promise." Her eyes fixed on him intently.
"Anything, Oswin." He swore.
"For Clara. Rescue her Chin boy. Show her the stars."
She was gone the next second like the three before her.
This time, he knew who was coming next. The Doctor struggled to keep it together. "Clara. Clara Oswin?" He croaked to the shadows. "Yes Doctor." A voice sad back, stepping out. Clara Oswin came in the same attire as she died. He could see the frozen tear, still in time, upon her cheek as she was torn away from life. "I'm here Doctor. It's me. The barmaid-governess." Her tone was brisk. He trembled slightly. She had been his first potential companion by his choice since the Ponds. His hope. His new day. His new start. But her was sto thick that it took her falling from a cloud for his stupid Time Lord brain to realize it.
"Don't worry. I don't blame you. Still talking to you, 'aint I?" She said softly.
"You died. It was my fault. Your death indirectly caused the fall of the Snowmen. You cried. This tear-" He walked straight up to her and touched her cheek. The single tear was immobile, frozen. "-is the most Importent Tear In Human History." The Doctor proclaimed.
"Aw, now your being silly. Don't be. I bet you've shed many a tear in you lifetimes. It wasn't your fault. But, did you-" She faltered. "Did you go back to your cloud?" She asked.
He shook his head. "Never. Not in a million years. I never will again. You taught me that."
"No, she taught you that. Clara. Prime Clara. She picked you up. If you think about, she really was the one and only true companion who was with you in all times of need. Think about it."
It was true. He knew it.
"She read Summer Falls you know. One of the reasons she agreed to travel with you was because she remembered you from the afterward. The Doctor. She made a silent promise to Amelia Williams to make sure you were never alone. That promise started with me."
With Me.
He had never known she had promised. But now, and only now he remembered the sweep of her eyes around the wrecked room on Trenzalore before she raced into his timestream. As if to say Watch him. Take care of him. She had left with no intention of coming back, ensuring he was in safe hands. His stomach dropped.
And he had left her.
"Doctor.." She was fading. "You know what comes next...good luck. You'll need it."
He turned, hoping with all his hearts she would come. A minute past. Two Minutes. Three Minutes.
The Doctor heard footsteps, and none other then Clara Oswald appeared. In his head, he listed the echoes he had remembered. One for each incarnation, two extra for him.
Carta Omega.
Cassa Ravenwood.
Olive McAida.
Claire Smith.
Ellizabeth Rolkwood.
Camille Oswin.
Ellie O'Carthy.
Celia Othiter.
Olivia Holmes.
Carla Oswald.
Carly Raven-Oswald.
Oswin Oswald.
Clara Oswin Oswald.
Clara Oswald.
His Impossible Girl.
Now he understood why he was hear. Amy had wished him a good night. A sleep. Not a death. Clara would be his impossible exit into life once more. Now she came, kind chocolate brown eyes, filled with wonder. Eleven noticed she was wearing what she wore on Trenzalore. Her hair was down her back.
He could feel her breath on his chest, about where she stood in height compared to him. She tip-toed and kissed his cheek, then softly running a hand through his quiff or hair, resting it on the back of his neck.
"Clever boy." She breathed. "Hello Again."
She, and the room, burst away, replaced by the gold light earlier. He lurched forward, and their he was. In the real console room.
"About time." A scottish voice said gruffly.
Hello Again.
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